


Marooned

by AquatiiicColony



Category: Disney Cartoons (Classic), Epic Mickey (Video Games)
Genre: Aliens, Alternate Universe - Aliens, Alternate Universe - Space, Amnesia, Astronauts, Brother Feels, Brotherly Angst, Crash Landing, Developing Friendships, Drabble, Eventual Happy Ending, Gen, Homesickness, Loneliness, Nonbinary Character, Starvation, Touch-Starved, unlikely friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:40:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23521705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AquatiiicColony/pseuds/AquatiiicColony
Summary: This was his dream. It was his fantasy; his gateway to becoming a star. All of it was crushed at an instant, and Oswald thought he would be a goner. But, in the tiniest of miracles, he was saved. And, in turn, he met someone who changed his life forever.
Relationships: Mickey Mouse & Oswald the Lucky Rabbit
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	Marooned

**Author's Note:**

> I know that I already have 'Connection' to work on, but this plot bunny wouldn't leave my head and I had to jot it all down. Tbh I never expected it to turn out into some jumbo au or anything, but it was a lot of fun to come up with it all. The idea of Astronaut!Oswald meeting Alien!Mickey was appealing to me, and so I jumped onto that bandwagon of ideas I had for it. This is just a long drabble that I compromised from my ideas, and if I ever continue it or make it a story, I would at least finish Connection first before doing so (I have the Connection story all planned out so don't you worry).
> 
> So enjoy some lighthearted yet sad stuff from these au disney bros! I hope it made you weep as much as it made me lol

It was the voice of the Mad Doctor that echoed off in his thin, long ears, bouncing off the corners of his mind and careening across it like an insignificant, miniature ball stuffed inside of a pinball machine. It was a voice of warning that was smothered in _urgency,_ and it would ring in his eardrums with every single chance it’s gotten, and it had to come back at the most life-threatening moment of his life. It had to come back like karma, like a whip cracking and smacking him in the center of his mortified, pale face.

 _I’m only going to say this once, Oswald._ It was a cruel irony on how the voice didn’t have a pinch of anger or fright within it, as anything the rabbit could feel is fright swarming to his heart. _You may not be able to come back after this. It may not be a far distance from the planet, but space is dangerous territory. It must be tread lightly._

_And it may kill you without you realizing it._

All the bile that managed to crawl up his windpipe has been forced to be swallowed, as in not taking a risk to smudge anything against the paper-thin glass of his helmet. Although, at the same time, a cloud of condensation has been wrapped around the bottom of the helmet, as caused by a frantic moment of hyperventilation. All of those puffs of agitated air has been forcibly pushed out of Oswald’s lungs, and it is a miracle that the oxygen tank propped onto his back, clinging onto his spine like a leech, has not been punctured nor destroyed nor loosing any of its air.

The only thing that wasn’t a miracle was how there was nothing but debris surrounding him. It all came in different shapes and sizes. Stark white plates have been chipped from paint to its metallic material, and have floated across the massive void of black as if there wasn’t a care in the world - or universe. Parts of what could have been the hull, of what could have been the curved wings that would hug the ends of the rocket, have been clipped and ripped and torn by cratered asteroids. Those darn rocks scraped against the rocket like pieces of paper being thrown into a shredder - nearly with a trace left to salvage.

Not even the astronaut’s pride and joy and wonder and motivation have been salvaged. It was viciously _yanked_ away from him, like a monster as tall as the sky has pried into his chest and snatch his heart away from him. It all shriveled up like a poor soul lost in the desert. It was eaten away the second an asteroid rammed to the side of the rocket, and all of the momentum from it has turned Oswald’s entire world upside down.

For several years, he used to dream of the stars. He used to dream of the twinkling balls of light that peppered the night sky, and of the stars stationed here on Earth, to who was worshiped like gods and smothered in adoration and love. He has longed, for years, to be the one on a golden pedestal, to be recognized, to be the star, to become the star, and he has tried everything he can to become that shining star.

His wife supported him the second he applied for the _Lunar Division,_ a mission to where several astronauts and scientists would band together to terraform the moon. It was a gigantic leap from a man simply taking a single step on the moon, but it was something that was heavily supported by intrigue and taking a step forward into outward discovery. It was funded by the richest duck in the world, from Mr. Mcduck himself, and a collection of thoughts was spewed out from Ludwig von Drake. It was all mingled together with thrill and excitement, and it would be a story that Oswald would love to share with his children.

Only, such a dream, such a fantasy, was eradicated by the cruel mistress of space, and her creations of the constantly expanding universe wanted to crush his dreams until it is nothing but dust. _Space dust._ He would be mocked, ridiculed, and the tears that he has never shed, not since he was a tiny kid with dreams bigger than him, have welled up in his midnight blue eyes. They clung onto his cheeks as if they were permanent, and they have stained his face, wounded his pride, and left him out in the cosmos with nothing but the spacesuit and oxygen tank on his back.

 _This is it,_ his mind declared, the pessimistic attitude he used to repress has been coming back, _You’re a goner. Your loved ones, your kids, your wife, you would never see them again. You’re toast. You’re nothing but debris._

It was the last sentence that allowed him to crumble his emotional walls. His knees were pulled to his chest, and he curled himself into a ball as he finally gave in to his emotions. He finally broke, and he wept in a way that shattered his own heart. It would be the last thing he would hear before he would lose oxygen anyway.

But something would tug onto his small frame, and pull on him like an anchor. He had no say on the matter, nor had the chance to see where he was being led to.

He didn’t have the chance as everything faded into black like the vacuum of space.

* * *

Something clipped through the ear grating static of the darkness he was swept under. It came in like a sledgehammer slamming into the windshield of a car and getting fragments of sharp, delicate glass to spill all over the pavement and have some of it to be tossed up into the air with no regard to the bystanders. Instead of disregard, however, the disturbance was filled with something soft, something kind, and it reminded the astronaut of his darling feline wife.

He expected to be coddled in the warm, caring arms of his wife, being constantly peppered by kisses of relief and horror and worry. He expected a mountain of bunny children to surround his injured body, nuzzling against his sides despite the irritating stinging. He expected to apologize to his honeybunch, to Ortensia, on making her worry about his life. He expected the comforting, cozy room to erase the horrors of space travel going wrong.

Oh, how _wrong_ he was, after lifting his eyelids and inviting his vision to find a voice and a face that belonged to it. The face didn’t belong to his wife that would sweep him off of his feet, nor something so innocent as his children. Instead of expecting a white-furred face, it was peach. Instead of a beady nose, it was a long pink one. Instead of eyes that were the color of emeralds, there were eyes that are the color of ice.

It wasn’t the only thing that was surprising about this creature, however. There wasn’t black fur that coated the creature, but a snow-white shade of fur and some strands of it were sticking off the top of their noggin. They had ears that could have been the shape of circular DVDs, and they almost looked like they were as flat as them too. Golden metallic swirls curled among each of their giant ears, and there was a golden circlet that wrapped around the crown of their head as well.

It could have been royalty or of something else entirely. That was something that Oswald can’t pinpoint. This creature, to which closely, scarily resembled a mouse, didn’t seem like they were, as the only kind of clothing they had on was ripped shorts that hugged their skinny legs, and it may have contained a royal blue color, but that shouldn’t hold any kind of _significance_ to it, now couldn’t it?

An index finger belonging to the extraterrestrial, and that said finger has a lime green fingernail attached to it, tapped against the glass like lightly hitting a piano key - soft but careful. The tapping came out like someone knocking against a stranger’s door. There might have been a friendly face on the alien, but there was a twinkle of apprehension glimmering in their eyes like they haven’t seen another being in years.

“H...” A masculine, high-pitched voice came from them. “Hullo? Are - are you awake? Are you -” They inched closer. Their nose squeezed against the glass. “Are you okay?”

Like a lightning bolt, that was all that was needed to stir Oswald from his dazed stupor, and a gasp that could have used all the oxygen in his tank was depleted from his mouth. His pair of black rubbery boots, now being speckled with grains of moon dust, staggered and clung to the rocky gray ground below him, and he held out a palm, tensing his muscles as blue energy surged into the palm. It was something he asked Von Drake to equip the spacesuit with, as a precaution against anything that has inhabited the moon. Ortensia thought he was being silly, and he would have bragged to her about it right now if he wasn’t _so_ agitated.

 _“Stay back...”_ The voice he spilled out was so sharp it could have demolished that rocket he was on faster than the asteroids could. It caused the bizarre mouse to flinch, their long, thin, green tail swished behind them anxiously. “Wha - what... what _are_ you?” The bottom of his front buck teeth pierced into his bottom lip. “Who... _who_ are you?”

There were a whole plethora of things he imagined from that point on. He imaged the mouse to open up their jaw, revealing fanged teeth that could be as sharp as razors and to have him for lunch. He imagined those green claws the alien possessed to shred him. He imagined that he would be slashed by that tail of theirs. And yet? _None_ of those truly happened.

A distressed murmur came from the alien. Their bare feet shuffled on the foreign ground, with those too having the same green claws like the ones on their fingertips. It looked like there was so much dust on the poor thing’s feet that the fur there looked grayer than white, and tiny lines of blue wrapped around the edges of their feet. It could have been scrapes. Blood. The alien has _blue_ blood?

“Umm...” They clicked their teeth and averted their gaze from the rabbit. “Ya see, that’s th’ thing...” Oswald didn’t expect such a voice to come from them. It sounded so wary. Filled with innocence. “I know my name, I know some things ‘bout myself but umm...” They shrugged. “I dunno what _exactly_ I am, but I can’t be from here... _right?”_

Oswald lowered his arm. He cocked his head to the side. So, this person never came from the moon. So... no moon people. Check. Then again, the moon was scanned just in case. If there were no known inhabitants here, then... why was this mouse creature here? And how long have they’ve been here? It didn’t make any sense. Oswald inched forward, feeling slightly intimidated that the mouse is taller than him (out of _all_ the things to feel intimidated about right now).

“Uhh...” He is just as clueless as the mouse. “I... I don’t think so...” He hated to sound uncertain in front of them. For some reason. The energy that was growing in his palm has waned out by now. His arm was now pinned to his side. “Mind tellin’ me ‘bout your name? I don’t think I could be callin’ you _‘Space Mouse’_ all the dang time.”

The said space mouse scrunched their face at the nickname. _“Space Mouse?_ What is a mouse?” Their eyes started to trail down to his bare chest, and then to their bruised knees and then their legs. They focused on their tail. “Is that what I look like?” They patted their cheeks bashfully, to which are adorably puffy. It reminded Oswald of his kids. “Umm... I’m... I’m Mickey.” What a strange earth name for an alien. “And you...?”

It might have been not that long, but there was something about the astronaut that intrigued them. The way he was covered in a suit that has the same color as the moon, blending him with the environment. The way both the patch on his right arm and the belt around his waist has a blue crescent on them. Whatever it means, Mickey isn’t sure. The way there was a strange material that created these black gloves and boots the astronaut wore. It all intrigued Mickey to a _T._

They wanted to know more about him, and they showed that well with an ear-to-ear grin.

“I’m Oswald.” They gasped as the astronaut smiled back at them and offered his hand. “Oswald The Lucky Rabbit.” People can be referred to as _lucky?_ Who knew? Their eyes sparkled like glaciers under the golden rays of the sun, and without a moment of hesitation, they clasped their hand against his, and they were told that this was called a “handshake.”

“Nice ta meet ya, Oswald.”

* * *

“So, why are your claws green? N’ I mean both on the hands and the feet.”

“Oh! Um... I learned that what’s underneath ‘em is some kind of acid. If I were to have ‘em out and attack uh - let’s say a rock - it would melt in between my fingers! My tail does the same thing too but it’s not as damagin’ as th’ claws.”

A concerned hum was heard. “Ya wouldn’t hit me with that, wouldn’t ya?”

A startled yelp. “N- _no!_ I would never! You’ve been... you’ve been so kind ta me that I wouldn’t think of-”

“Relax, _relax,_ I was jus’... I was jus’ kiddin’.” A pause. “You... don’t know what that is, do you?”

“Kickin’?”

“No... _kiddin’!_ It’s kind of like a joke. I was jus’ messin’ with ya, that’s all.”

_“Ohhh...”_

It was not a simple task to converse with Mickey at times. There were some things the guy would understand and some would not. He would be aware of pronouns, and would like to be referred to as ‘he’ and ‘they’ instead of ‘it.’ On the other hand, he was completely oblivious to something such as jokes or sarcasm or anything of the like. It confused Oswald as much as it does confuse Mickey, but it was enough to entertain them while they are stranded on the moon.

He would have thought he would lose his marbles upon crashing here, but when push comes to shove, he found the mouse to be someone unaware and oblivious to the universe surrounding him and to be someone with not enough memories to be fully aware of everything. Over time, it _pained_ him to see such a kind fellow have amnesia, and would hope that the memories would come flooding back soon.

He would have liked to know what in the world was the purpose of the bling on Mickey’s ears too. Maybe he’s an alien prince back at home? Who knows. All he did know was not pain, that sympathy he’s feeling for his newfound friend, felt all too similar to the rumbling in his stomach.

He wrapped an arm around his abdomen and try to ignore it all. It was probably a few days since he has been here, and he didn’t get anything to fill his stomach. It’s going to be a pain, a stupid, stupid pain, but he can toughen it out. It was just... _harder_ to do when Mickey constantly glimpsed now and again, marring a concerned look on his facial features.

“Do you need consumption?”

“Huh?” His ears stood as tall as wheats in a wheat field. His eyes flickered towards the white-furred creature.

The said white-furred creature scratched the side of his left cheek. “Consumption? Do ya need consumption?” He patted to his stomach. “Right here?”

It was an odd way of saying ‘do you need to eat’ but Oswald sputtered his lips at the childish question, and nodded to which he has regretted since his head has been pounding the more the rumbling occurred. “Yeah... yeah, I _do.”_ He crossed his legs and rested his hands on his knees. “But what ‘bout you? You probably have been here forever and I haven’t seen _you_ complain.”

The concerned look shifted to one that looked glum, and that was when the extraterrestrial appeared much more gloomy than anything else. His acidic tail was flattened against the cratered ground, and his shoulders deflated. All he stared at in the far distance was the planet in front of them. Earth. Just seeing it made Oswald homesick.

Mickey rested his chin on the top of his knees, and a sigh drifted from his chapped lips. It was like he hasn’t drunk anything either. “I... don’t need ta eat that much. It’s what I found out ‘bout myself. But... I would like to taste somethin’ that isn’t rocks around here.” The bottom of his eyelids creased with frustration and he plopped his back down onto the ground, not caring for getting any dust in his fur. “Rocks are gross.”

The smaller earthling gave out a flurry of coughs after that last statement, and it would have given Mickey concern if it weren’t for the fact that he heard chuckling. He doesn’t think he has ever listened to such a sound before, let alone that would come from his friend. It sounded so musical and majestic, like an angel’s chorus. A tapping from one of the rabbit’s big feet occurred, and it looked like he was eating his glove by how much he was stifling his laughter.

“Mickey...! You don’t-” He tried not to collapse from laughing so hard. “You don’t _eat_ rocks! I’m surprised you can _bite_ into one!”

Mickey cupped a small rock, about the size of a baseball, in one of his hands. Green claws of his pierced into the rock, and at an instant, it started melting, looking more like gray frosting has coated his hand rather than anything else. It could have been a wonder as to what he was doing until he inched a hand towards his mouth and stuck his tongue out -

Oswald swatted the sludge off of his hands, and the mess stained the ground. Not that it mattered much anyway. The baffled look on the astronaut’s face could have been humorous if it wasn’t for the fact that this just happened. “You’re not supposed ta lick it from your hand either!”

Mickey blinked. “Oh... then...” His eyes shifted. “What am I supposed ta consume then?”

Oswald couldn’t look at him in the eye. He curled himself up, like when he thought he would have taken away by the cosmos, and he locked his sight with the planet in front of him. He hoped to see Ortensia again, to see his kids again, and everything would be happy. _Everyone_ would be happy.

Although, the thought of it caused his mind to wander about a certain someone too. A certain fella that has been marooned here longer than he has, and has been the kindest person he has ever met. Sure, he was skittish and confused at times, but it was all harmless. Just seeing that face, that happy face whenever he wakes up, made him wonder about something when he gets rescued...

What would happen to _Mickey_ then?

He doesn’t know. But... he doesn’t want him to be stuck here. Not by a longshot.

“...Nuthin’. Not til’ we get rescued... okay, Mick?”

The melancholy made Mickey raise himself from his position. His scarred fingers poked tiny holes inside of his shorts, but he didn’t pay any mind to it. He wasn’t sure why, but that one word stuck out to him the most. Rescued. Oswald believed that they can be... rescued. Rescued. Rescued, rescued, _rescued..._

It sounded bizarre on his friend’s tongue. It sounded like something that would hold such importance and so much promise. It felt so... so warm inside of Mickey’s chest. It has the warmth of all of the rays of the sun, and it has such a warmth that he wished that it would be enough to get his friend’s mind off of the hunger. Perhaps if he were to move closer, that would be enough.

Skidding his knees across the terrain, he inched closer towards Oswald. He didn’t need to see his face to acknowledge that tears are sliding down his cheeks. The sight of them has tears streaming down his cheeks, and he wasted no time in wrapping his arms around the astronaut’s arms, only an inch away from clutching his shoulders.

A hand touched the back of his head and brought him to the crook of Oswald’s neck. An arm wrapped around his waist as if permitting him to stick onto the rabbit like glue. A choked voice interrupted his moment of surprise, and it made the fresh tears running down even faster than before.

“It’s okay, Mick. Cryin’ is okay.”

A single heave tore through the quiet atmosphere, and the sobs that followed from the extraterrestrial broke Oswald’s heart, but he knew what it was like. The loneliness, the heartache, the longingness for company... he knew it all so well. And the only thing he can do is just hold the mouse and comfort him just as he’s being comforted.

As long as they’re together, that’s what matters.

_“It’s okay.”_

* * *

It felt like ages until neither of them has seen anything. The most they have ever seen was just asteroids they counted or a comet that would take the time for Oswald to explain what it is and why it looks so beautiful, or how there would be tales made about what it is like on Earth and how there were so many opportunities there. It made Oswald smile every time he was encouraged to talk about his wife or children.

Neither of them expected a rocket to arrive. It all came so fast that it brought the astronaut to his knees and the alien to unleash his claws and threaten to attack. Thankfully, any misunderstandings were explained and forgiven, but the most that stood out from it all was Oswald’s request.

A request to take the alien with him. To take Mickey with him. It wasn’t approved, not at first, and it took time for Oswald to convince Lugwig that no testing should be involved, but it was a miracle for Mickey to be able to step away from the moon that he has been stuck on for so long.

It felt like a miracle to feel grass blades tickling his feet the second he stepped foot on the planet’s surface, and Oswald chased him like a worried pet owner, feeling like he has added yet another child to his family, but in the form of a special friend.

That would _never_ be forgotten.


End file.
